


Cantonica Fog

by lueurnotes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Gen, Nudity, and YES I am projecting lmao, but so does reader, why yes it IS yearning hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lueurnotes/pseuds/lueurnotes
Summary: A moment of self-reflection after being partners with Din for months...
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Kudos: 11





	Cantonica Fog

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: blood mention, looking at your own body (not sexually), death mention

A shower. A real shower.

The steam rose from the near thunderous pounding of the artificial downpour. Glass walls encased your form as you sighed deep, the steam and heat filling your lungs in a steady breath. The pressured water streamed endlessly, but it wasn’t enough. Your hand itched to turn the knob even further. You wanted to burn. 

Outside of the glass walls, you could see the expansive mirror reflecting yourself and the rest of the refresher. You could barely make yourself out, the fog was so thick. But you gazed at your own form still, hand wiping at the glass divider, really looking at yourself. 

Months spent on a ship far older than you left you stronger than when you were found. Sure, there was a desperate scrappiness about you so many cycles ago, but that was different. Now, your muscles were taut with hard labor, skin roughened with the Crest’s maintenance, and body sore from the occasional sparring match with the man that found you. 

Him. The Mandalorian. He was never the enigma that others had made him out to be. Not to you. True, you had heard the hushed whispers of a mysterious creed. A religion of violence.

Granted, your meeting was violent. Brief and chaotic. Like the collision of stars you had read about, except instead of stardust there was blaster residue and burnt flesh. Blood and grime. When the blaster fire ceased and all that was left was the dust and you, his breath rattled through the modulator, breathing in that poison air that tainted your body for so long. For the many times in your life that you drew so close to death, this surely had to be it. This was the end. There was no other way. As the beskar-covered man moved, so did his weapon. Your eyes shut at once, not wanting to see any more death, let alone your own. 

Then nothing.

What?

You cracked your eyes open like an infant seeing for the first time, breath still shaking from the battle you didn’t agree to fight. But, he was still there. 

The Mandalorian held his battle-scorched blaster rifle in one arm and his other out to you. 

He may kill people for credits, but the Mandalorian wasn’t violent. No, if he truly was, you would have never made it this far from the scum and villainy he lifted you from. 

A shock of cool water snapped you from your thoughts. You gasped as your brow furrowed. _I can’t have anything nice, huh?_ Deftly your hands adjusted the knobs, twisting this way and that until it was proper scorching again. Once more, you looked at your reflection. 

This body. This body has defended you for years and years in all of its glory. It kept you fed. It kept you safe. It kept you alive. Blood coursed throughout you, pumped by a heart that just kept beating. Lungs filled and unfilled with air that suffocated so many others. Your mind, steadfast and quick, allowed you to escape the desolate planet you were born. Despite the scars across your body and the ones that curled inside your head and heart, you were still here and standing. There was a beauty to that notion. 

You thought that perhaps you should feel shame, but at the end of the cycle, this was truly all you had. Was it wrong to desire to share it? This one thing that you truly and completely own. Was it wrong to so desperately needing to share it and give it? Give it to him. 

You looked on as the reflection became blurred with the heated fog. 

Maybe another time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking out this little drabble! Find me on tumblr: https://lueurnotes.tumblr.com/


End file.
